by Alice Sharpe
“One issue at a time,” Pike said. He smiled at Sierra and Tess and started out to the barn.
Lily arrived home from driving her son to the end of the road to catch his school bus as Pike left the mudroom.
“Things still tense in there?” she asked.
“Kind of.”
“Oh, goody.”
He patted her fondly on the back and walked to the barn, where he found Frankie talking with a fourth man, who introduced himself as Oliver. This guy was a head shorter and a decade older than Frankie. A bag of camera equipment hung over his shoulder and all three ranch dogs sat by his legs staring up at him.
“Dad still fussing?” Frankie asked.
“Some. What’s with the dogs?”
Oliver laughed. “I gave them an old cracker I found in my camera bag. Now they’re my new best friends.”
“Surest way to their hearts is through their stomachs,” Frankie said with a grin.
Pike told Oliver that breakfast was almost ready over in the house, and Oliver loped off, dogs trailing behind him. “Let’s ride over to the feed barn and make sure the tractors are ready in case the storm they’re predicting comes and we need to haul hay to the cattle,” Pike said. “We need to talk about the documentary, anyway.”
They saddled their horses and headed out, talking as they rode. Frankie was adamant. “Everything is going to be fine,” he said.
“What about the loss of the actor who was going to do the voice-over?”
Frankie shrugged. “Oliver says they’ll find someone else. I’m not worried about it.”
“Then let’s just tell Dad we think the project should continue.”
“I agree. He’s just being cautious.”
“That’s in his job description,” Pike said.
By the time the day had passed, he had started to sort out the documentary people. From what he gathered this advance team consisted of Oliver, who was the cameraman, Gary the producer, an assistant producer named Ogden and a story consultant named Leo. In other words, Pike figured out at last, LOGO was an acronym for their first names. Did that mean that this crew was pretty much the whole company?
“Just about,” Gary said when Pike asked. “We hire freelancers for other positions on a as-needed basis. Like, we have an historian working for us right now and today we engaged your soon-to-be sister-in-law, Kinsey Frost, to produce a series of sketches and paintings to illustrate past incidents.” He paused and smiled. “I want to thank you and your brother for convincing your father to give us a chance.”
“You might think about hiring an investigator to uncover the truth about your sabotages,” Pike said.
“Yeah. I actually talked to Ms. Hyde this afternoon and she gave me the name of a guy who works in Seattle.”
Pike arranged for Frankie to stay in his house to keep an eye on Daisy while he was gone, and before too long it was time to drive to Boise. Five hours later, the plane touched down in Los Angeles, and an hour after that, thanks to traffic, they walked into the lobby of the hotel Pike had booked for them. They agreed to meet for dinner in thirty minutes.
As it happened, a half hour later they arrived at the elevator at the same time. “Nice hotel,” Sierra commented as they rode down to the lobby.
“I stayed here the last time I came to see Tess.”
“Not at your mother’s house?”
“No, I take her in small doses.”
“Her and Doug both.”
“Actually, Doug is better than the husband before him. The only good thing that man ever did was die young.”
She laughed. “And leave your mother a big old house and a boatload of money.”
“True.”
The restaurant downstairs had a free table, so they decided to eat there and both ordered a pasta dish and a glass of wine. “So, what did your client say about the photographs?” he asked her.
“She just emailed me that the guy in the bar was her husband.”
“Wow. End of case.”
“Well, no, actually, just the beginning. We’re going to meet when I get home to figure out the next step. She’ll need more intimate photos than the ones I shot if she needs to make her case to a judge.”
“Is she hard to deal with?”
“A little. Like I said, she has a phone phobia so we seldom talk, and she’s something of a recluse. She was Miss Georgia a couple of decades ago. I think that’s how she nabbed Spiro. If I can catch her husband in a really embarrassing situation her lawyer might be able to convince him to sign away his rights to the prenup and she can be done with him even faster.”
“Do you do many divorce cases?”
“My share. A lot of what I do is computer work. Background checks and things like that. By the way, I should have mentioned that I called the Los Angeles Police Department this morning and spoke to a Detective Hatch. I told him everything Tess told me and he said he would start looking into it so he’d have some news to share when I go see him tomorrow.”
“I thought you didn’t think this was a conversation to have over a phone,” Pike commented.
“I didn’t. But unless we want to be down here for more than a day or two, I decided the police had to be told in advance. Plus, if they’re sitting on a homicide while their star witness hides away in Idaho, they’re bound to get upset.”
“I agree,” Pike said. “Did he mention any dead drug dealers?”
“Nope. Said there were only two local unidentified bodies and they were both female, but who knows what he found out today.”
The rest of dinner probably appeared relaxed to an onlooker, but there were rivers of tension flowing underneath. Beyond the stress of the coming commitments, there were undercurrents of awareness between the two of them. Pike couldn’t help but be hyperaware of Sierra’s lips as she spoke, of the way she chewed, the way she leaned forward to hear what he was saying. There was the memory of their very brief kiss and the lack of any kind of restraint between them, to say nothing of lingering eye contact.
So it came as a little bit of a disappointment when she kissed him good-night on his cheek and thanked him for her meal. He pulled on her shoulder as she started to unlock her door and she turned around, her eyes questioning.
“When do we see Detective Hatch?”
“I thought we were going our separate ways,” she said. “The police department isn’t far from here. I can take a cab while you drive out to Mona’s house. I assume you have to ask her where Doug went after she kicked him out?”
“I do, but I’d rather we stick together. I’m as anxious to hear what the police say as you are. And if we’re going to fight for what’s right for Tess with her father, we should show a united front.”
“That makes sense,” she said. “I told Hatch eight o’clock.”
“Fine.” He ran his fingers along her silky jaw. “That’s not really why I detained you, you know that, right?”
Her smile shot through him. “I kind of figured. But I also think we should get some sleep. Let’s give ourselves a little time to catch our breath.”
“How about a friendly kiss good-night?” he asked.
She smiled. “That couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“No, that couldn’t hurt,” he agreed and touched his lips to hers. He’d intended it to be light and informal, but the fuse that was lit between them changed things. She raised her arms to circle his neck. Her breasts beneath her sweater pressed into his chest. Her lips parted, and her mouth was warm and inviting. He’d never been so intensely aware of a woman as he was of her.
“I could get addicted to you,” she whispered when at last they separated.
“That’s fine with me,” he murmured, his lips against her cheek.
“We live such different lives.”
“Is that what’s
worrying you?”
She nodded as she touched his face. If she wanted him to slow down, she was going to have to send clearer signals. “I’m not against a casual affair as long as everyone understands that it’s terminal,” she said softly, her fingers caressing his ear.
“And you don’t think I can handle that?”
Her lips touched his again. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know if I can. I think I need to say good-night, Pike. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night,” he said and waited until she’d opened the door and retreated inside, sparing him one last smile before the door closed.
* * *
DETECTIVE RICHARD HATCH was a guy of about forty with a framed photo of a woman and three young children sitting on his desk. His fair hair was cut in a buzz cut, his skin was tanned a light brown, suggesting he spent time at the beach when off duty, and his crisp white shirt would probably look more in place back east than in the easy breezy climate of Southern California.
Sierra had dressed in her black jeans and newly brushed boots. She wore her leather jacket over a white tank. Pike looked down-home comfy and incredibly good in his usual garb of boots, jeans and a shirt. The clothes might be ordinary, but the man inside them was so well put together that he elevated them.
She decided she was fixating on all these details to keep from being nervous about what she was about to hear Hatch say.
He spread his hands on his desk. “I got nothin’,” he said.
“Nothing? What does that mean?” Sierra asked.
“It means no dead body, no evidence of a shooting, no street news.”
“What about Danny Cooke?”
He thumbed through a small stack of papers. “Daniel Robert Cooke. Twenty-seven years old, born in Detroit, Michigan. He’s been in and out of trouble his whole life. The nature of the crimes escalated as he got older. You know, he shoplifted when he was eight, robbed a bowling alley when he was thirteen, used a weapon in his next robbery. In and out of jail, lots of drug charges. Moved out here about nine months ago. He’s been a guest in our jail a few times, all drug related, all in and out. Don’t know when he started dealing for sure.”
“Did you find anyone he did business with, or who may have known him on a personal level, like as a friend?”
“No. But I spoke to his landlord, a Mr. Fred Landers, who happens to live in the adjoining duplex. He bought in to the community a long time ago and then watched it get overrun with gangs. Anyway, he saw Danny and your sister leave that afternoon. This was after an altercation between them. He didn’t hear what was said, just that there was an angry exchange of words and that apparently it wasn’t uncommon. He said Danny was shouldering a backpack the landlord had seen your sister carry on occasion. They drove off in a blue car.
“Three hours later, he saw Danny drive into the duplex driveway and get out of the car alone. He walked into the house and the landlord heard the usual noises. Then Danny came back out, threw a few things into the car and took off. The landlord had a weird feeling about things so he went over and found the apartment empty with the key on the table. It wasn’t the first time someone had run out on the rental and since he’d been more or less expecting something like that to happen, he wrote if off to the drugs he knew Cooke used.”
“Was he positive it was Danny who returned?” Sierra asked.
“He said he was. I don’t know. Sometimes people just see what they expect to see. The view from the window he admitted looking out of wasn’t great.”
“Why had he been expecting something to happen?” Pike asked.
“Danny talked constantly about returning to Detroit. The landlord figured they must have had a big fight and Danny abandoned Tess somewhere, taking the car and moving out before she got back to the apartment. By the way, the landlord thought your sister used drugs, too.”
“She doesn’t. I checked her arms.”
“Maybe weed?”
“Maybe. She says no. Did you check on whether Danny made it back to Detroit?”
“Talked to his mother this morning. She hasn’t heard from Danny in a year or more and says she doesn’t expect that to change. She’s heard no word he’s back in town.”
He set the papers aside and folded his hands. “We went to the house you told me about, the one where your sister claims Danny Cooke was killed. We found absolutely nothing suspicious. The woman who lives there, Inez Ruiz, is an elderly lady with poor hearing who’s resided at that address for twenty years. It took us forever to get her to answer her door. Says she’s afraid of what’s outside. Forensics gathered samples from the area right inside the house, but without further evidence, this will get low priority. You’re familiar with how big-city departments are run, Ms. Hyde. It’s not like television. Things take time and when there’s so little to go on—no body, no witnesses—”
“Except my sister,” Sierra interjected.
He nodded. “Yeah. Except a kid who may or may not use drugs, who was living with a known drug dealer and who waited a week before telling anybody what she saw. Ms. Hyde, I think your sister is the victim here. The victim of a boyfriend who wanted her car and not her. I suspect Danny is alive and well and knows that he scared her enough to keep her quiet.”
“Would you mind if I go to the neighborhood and ask a few questions?” Sierra asked. “I understand where you’re coming from, but she described Danny’s death in such painful detail, I have to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“Knock yourself out, but be warned. This is a high-crime, gang-regulated part of the city. Tread lightly. And I know it’s painful, but keep an open mind when it comes to the possibility that your sister was high and either thought she saw things happen that didn’t, or is lying because she lost her car to her drug-dealing boyfriend.”
“Thanks,” Sierra said, her voice tight. She glanced at Pike, who hadn’t said a word past the introduction. “Do you have anything you want to ask the detective?” she asked.
He sat forward. “Has anyone found her car?”
“Well, no one has looked for it because it wasn’t reported stolen. Your sister or her father, whoever is the legal owner, should file a report.”
“Okay,” Sierra said.
“One last thing,” Pike added. “Are you sure you got the right house?”
“The house where the reported shooting took place?”
“Yes,” Pike replied. “Tess seemed relatively vague about exactly where it was.”
“I went on the information I was given,” the detective said. “Middle of the block, North Ash, red door. I’m pretty sure we got the right place.” He stood up and offered his hand to each of them in turn, then slipped Sierra an index card. “These are the addresses and the names of the people I spoke to. I’ll keep my eyes open and stay in touch. You do the same.”
“Thank you,” she said. She and Pike left the department in silence, both lost in thought. Did Tess use drugs? Had she imagined the whole thing or had Danny faked his death to end their relationship? Even more painful was the thought that Tess might have lied to her and Pike.
Sierra wasn’t sure what the truth was, but she knew she better find out.
Chapter Five
Through mutual agreement, they decided the morning might be best spent trying to find out where Doug had gone after Pike’s mother kicked him out of her house instead of tackling a gang-orientated neighborhood that probably wouldn’t come alive until later in the day.
The traffic was grueling and the only thing that made it halfway tolerable was the fact that Sierra sat next to him in the car. She was fooling with her phone and at last she looked up. “It’s twenty degrees in New York and twenty-eight degrees in Idaho,” she announced. “And it’s seventy-eight degrees here.”
He smiled as he gazed at the sky. Under a veneer of smog, it was indeed clear
and bright. He didn’t tell her he’d take cold, crisp air any day to this, but that was the truth. “I think we better plan on leaving by tomorrow night or we stand a chance of getting frozen out of Boise,” he said. “I read the anticipated storm is due to hit by Friday night.”
At last they pulled into Mona’s driveway. The house was circa 1950, a big old mansion of a place surrounded by grounds that kept two gardeners busy three days a week. It was a good thing that Mona’s previous husband had left her cash as well as the house.
“This is the first time I’ve been here,” Sierra said. “Tess sent me pictures a few years ago. It’s a great old place.”
“It is that. I’m surprised you never came to visit your sister, though.”
“Well, neither Mona nor Doug exactly rolled out the welcome mat. Like so many families nowadays, like yours, for instance, ours was a little complicated. I had my father and Tess had Doug. My mother was our commonality and when she died, well, things got tricky. If we’d been closer in age, maybe I could have shared my dad with her, but it just didn’t work out that way. But oh, brother, I loved visiting Dad every summer. He and Rollo always seemed to have something going on.”
“Rollo. He’s the man who taught you about the camera glasses,” Pike said. “The one with the creepy son.”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
“Sounds like you still miss him.”
She fingered the stone at the base of her throat. “You’re right, I do. I should have found other ways to stay close to Tess. Maybe I was too judgmental about some of her iffy friends.”
“Like Danny?”
“Exactly. She told me about him once and then never mentioned his name again. That’s after I came unglued when she said he did drugs and sometimes sold them.”
“Did you try to talk to Doug about him?”
“I tried. He wasn’t listening. It was right before Mona kicked him out of her house.”
Pike shook his head.
“Yeah, well, beating myself up isn’t going to change anything, so I’d rather concentrate on fixing what can still be fixed,” Sierra added. “But I do have to ask. How did someone like Mona end up giving birth to someone like you?”
